


Special Request

by notmykink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Rimming, like riding each other not a horse uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmykink/pseuds/notmykink
Summary: Tooru buys a set of lingerie for Hajime, only for his boyfriend to react less than enthusiastically.He forgets about it pretty quickly, until one night he returns home from work and Hajime greets him by the door, clad in nothing but the black lace that Tooru had picked out for him.





	Special Request

**Author's Note:**

> i asked my friend what to write next and this was what she asked for! honestly i dont really see the appeal of lingerie, but i wanted to try anyway, if just to challenge myself, and i realised it did quite fit a problem ive been thinking about a lot lately regarding the whole masculinity/femininity shit that people are so happy to discuss. i see iwaizumi as very manly and sure of himself so while i dont think he'd be into wearing fancy underwear and shit, i don't think he'd feel bad about it either, at least not to uphold some dumb gender role bullshit and while i cant really say ive been looking for lingerie fics (again, not my kink) i guess i was sort of scared of my feelings abt it being bc its not ~masculine~ enough or whatever, but ive come to the conclusion that. idk. i just dont think it matters that much, it's just underwear my dudes. iwaoi are very comfortable with themselves and each other and idk i guess i wanted to try and write that lol. can't say i didn't try

Tooru calls out an “I’m home!” as he takes off his shoes in the genkan before entering their apartment, humming excitedly and hiding the small paper bag behind his back, walking into the kitchen where Hajime is still cooking dinner, already having changed from work clothes into something more casual, the jogging pants accenting his ass in a way too unfair way. A sigh escapes Tooru’s lips as he walks over to his boyfriend, pressing a kiss against Hajime’s cheek before Hajime turns his head to kiss him back, just as Tooru slides a hand up Hajime’s back under the t-shirt, laughing when Hajime jumps to the side, almost elbowing him in the chest.

“Get your cold hands off of me,” Hajime threatens him, raising the chopsticks he was using to stir the food as if they were a weapon. Tooru chuckles, raising the bag in front of him as if it’s a peace offering, and Hajime squints, sinking his raised hand as he leans in to read the swirly black letters on the logo before putting down the chopsticks, accepting the bag. “What’s the catch?” he asks, as if Tooru would _never_ do anything nice just to be nice, and Tooru gasps, taking a step back as he clutches his chest in offense.

“Can’t I just buy a gift for Iwa-chan once in awhile because I want to?” he asks, biting his lip as Hajime looks into the back with suspicion, pushing the tissue paper away to see the contents. “Actually, it _is_ as much of a gift for me as it is for you…” Tooru mumbles, just as Hajime pulls up the lacy garments, eyes growing wide.

“You bought me … panties?” he asks, straightforward as ever, and Tooru opens his mouth, frowning when he realises that the look on Hajime’s face is one of distaste.

“It’s lingerie, and there’s more than just—you don’t like it?” he asks, just as the rice cooker beeps, and Hajime looks up at it, putting the lace panties back into the bag and placing it on the counter, more interested in cooking than the contents of the elegant small paper bag that looks just as expensive as it was. Tooru tries not to feel disappointed.

“Will you grab the bowls? Let’s talk about this after dinner,” Hajime says as he turns off the heat, finishing the food for them, and Tooru nods, taking one last look at the lonely bag on the kitchen counter before joining Hajime with preparing their dinner.

 

After washing their dishes, Tooru and Hajime sit down in front of each other at the table, the tiny bag between them and the low-hanging lamp over the table creating an almost spotlight-like effect, lighting up the center of the table more than the rest of the room, putting all focus on the small bag placed in the middle.

Hajime reaches out, burying his hand in the bag again, pulling out the black lace soon after, putting it down on the table in front of them.

“Why is—this is a bra,” he says, lifting said bra up into the air, giving Oikawa a pointed look.

“It’s a special brand, made for men, I bought it in your size,” Oikawa says, clasping his hands together in excitement, waiting for Hajime to give him a proper reaction, unused to him being so doubtful, so… quiet.

“But… why?” Hajime asks, frowning down at the lacy underwear in confusion and Tooru snorts as if that isn’t obvious, shrugging to feign nonchalance.

“I wanted—I’d like to see you in it,” he says, reaching out and raising up the garter belt, looking up at Hajime with a smirk. “I mean, hopefully I’d be doing more than just watching,” he adds. Hajime raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I’m not really… into all that,” he says, motioning with his hand towards the contents spread out on the table and Tooru frowns, suddenly realising that he hadn’t even gotten _stockings_ for the garter belt, but does that even matter when Hajime isn’t even willing to try it out?

“Special request?” Tooru asks quickly, voice light and innocent, and Hajime’s eyes widen in surprise, staring back at Tooru’s pleading face with obvious shock, not unlike how Tooru himself is feeling at this turn of events.

When they had first started out actually _dating,_ having sex, they had been fine with just doing it and being close to each other constantly, but soon enough both of them grew curious for more, and both of them were interested in exploring different kinks and practices, but they also quickly found out that their ideas of what to try were vastly different.

They built up a system — the ‘special request’ meaning that if one of them had something he _really_ wanted to try, the other would give it a chance, even if he didn’t find it arousing. Of course there were limits and if Hajime _really_ didn’t want to, he could still say screw you to the special request, but he hadn’t _actually_ done that yet, not even the one time Tooru had come home with a plug for _sounding,_ no matter how bewildered he had looked when Tooru explained where it was going to go in.

Yet, despite being a way more vanilla thing, Hajime was still staring down at the lingerie in doubt, eyebrows furrowed as he chewed on his lower lip, obviously not quite comfortable with saying yes.

Tooru does the only thing he can do in a situation like this, when Hajime is uncomfortable, and tries his best to take away what’s ruining his mood. He grabs all of the lingerie strewn over the table, putting into the bag again with a wide smile at Hajime, pushing the bag aside.

“You don’t have to decide tonight or do it if you don’t want to, it was just a suggestion,” Tooru says, already trying to remember where he put the receipt, because he did _not_ spend that much money on elegant lingerie just for it to end up unused in the back of the closet.

Hajime nods, standing up, already making his way to the living room.

“The show already started, I’ll turn on the tv,” he says, obviously trying to change the subject, and Tooru is unsure whether he’s trying to cut the conversation short because he has to mull it over or because he’s _that_ unhappy with the idea. No matter what the reason is, Tooru lets him, joining him in the sofa soon after, leaning up against Hajime’s shoulder, sighing in bliss when he’s pulled closer by the waist, a featherlight kiss pressed against the top of his head.

 

Tooru doesn’t want to pressure his boyfriend, so he pushes away the thought, forgetting the small bag fairly quickly compared to how long he’s been imagining Hajime in it. He actually forgets about it completely until he comes home from a particularly rough day at work one night — a late night — and Hajime meets him in the door, wearing nothing but the set of lingerie Tooru bought for him, except with an added pair of stockings that Tooru forgot to buy, black nylon with a lace hem on the thighs where they’re clasped to the garter belt, the thin panties underneath framing his cock beautifully in a way that Tooru couldn’t even have imagined properly even if he had tried.

The bra fits him too, surprisingly well, cupping his pectorals in a way that made it seem like this set was _made_ for men of athletic build — like his own dear, _beautiful_ Iwa-chan — and Hajime is standing in the doorway to the living room, his posture dignified and relaxed, the only thing giving away his nervousness the light blush spreading on his cheek, only improving Tooru’s already amazing view.

“Holy fuck,” Tooru says, accidentally dropping his bag, happy that he at least took off his shoes before his eyes landed on Hajime, instantly cutting the distance between them as he pulls Hajime closer, grabbing him by the waist, kissing him softly at first — like he always does when he’s the one coming home last — before Hajime deepens the kiss, tilting his head to the side and pressing his tongue against Tooru’s lips and between them. Hajime presses his body up against Tooru’s, arms reaching up to push off his blazer jacket, and Tooru moves to help him, stretching his arms to make the job easier. The instant his blazer is off, Tooru’s hands are on Hajime’s body again, sliding over beautiful bared skin and delicate lace, and all he wants to do is explore every single inch of Hajime’s body, not unlike how they were when they had just gotten together back in the days, finally able to touch each other in ways they hadn’t before.

Hajime pulls him inside the living room by the tie and Tooru presses him up against the back of the couch, Hajime sitting on the backrest, Tooru standing between his spread legs without moving their lips from each other for more than a second to breathe.

“I love you,” Tooru whispers against Hajime’s lips as they finally pull back slightly, both breathless, hands now solidly planted on Hajime’s hips as Hajime loosens the tie before opening his shirt buttons, eager to get Tooru undressed as well. “I love you so much,” he says again, looking down at Hajime, equally filled with lust and affection, the excitement over _finally_ seeing him in the lingerie he had dreamt about for so long overshadowed by the idea of Hajime doing all this for _him_ out of love.

After pulling off Tooru’s shirt completely, Hajime reaches down to his own thighs, loosening the clasps holding up his stockings, and Tooru looks at him in confusion, slightly disappointed that he’s already taking them off now. But after loosening all of the clasps, Hajime doesn’t take off the stockings, instead pushing his ass off the couch to pull off the panties underneath the garter belt, but keeping the garter belt on, and only now Tooru realises why he had to loosen the clasps — to take off the panties without having to take off the garter, of course. Hajime pushes Tooru away slightly, and Tooru is still too stunned to react in any other way than to let him, staring at Hajime as he pulls off the panties, throwing them right at Tooru’s head before returning his attention to the stockings, clasping the suspenders onto the stockings again to keep them from crawling down, his fingers working surprisingly gently over the delicate lace.

Tooru grabs the panties, pulling them off his head and staring down at them before reaching up without thinking, taking a sniff. He hears a surprised snort from Hajime in reaction, and he sends him his most devious smirk, throwing the panties aside again — they didn’t even smell like _him_ yet anyway, the perfume smell that the whole store reeked of still sticking to the fabric, disappointingly enough. Hajime still looks at him like he’s crazy, but his legs are slightly spread again, his hardening cock now free under the garter belt, and Tooru takes one long step closer again, grabbing Hajime’s knees and spreading his legs again, grinding against him despite still wearing his suit pants, earning a wonderful sound from Hajime, something between a sigh and a gasp as he throws his head back, reaching up to hold Tooru’s shoulders for support. Tooru kisses his jaw, Hajime’s face still turned towards the ceiling, before moving his lips down to his throat, pressing wet and sloppy kisses against it before creating suction with his lips, hoping to leave marks.

Hajime gasps again, holding on to Tooru’s shoulders as he leans back again, and part of Tooru wants to push him over so he falls down into the sofa, to take him right there, but Hajime has done this much, dressed up like this for _him,_ and all he wants to do is slowly tear him apart until call he can say is Tooru’s name and the only feeling he knows is pleasure.

Tooru bows down, making sure to do it slow enough so Hajime won’t lose his grip on his shoulders, but when Tooru kneels too far down he grabs a hold of both of Hajime’s thighs, looking up at him with a small smile to let him know he can just lie back before he leans in between his thighs, giving the tip of his cock an openmouthed kiss.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Hajime asks, still attempting to sit upright, looking down at Tooru in confusion. Tooru looks up, makes eye contact as he slides his tongue down the underside of his shaft, smiling when Hajime bites his lip again, staring down at him.

“I want to make you feel good, will you let me?” he asks, and Hajime visibly swallows, shaking his head.

“This is—I wanted to treat you,” he says, looking down at himself, the lingerie still hugging his body as if it was meant for him and him only.

“Please,” Tooru asks, his word coming out barely higher than a whisper, and he leans in, trailing his tongue down the underside of Hajime’s balls, teasing the line of skin between his balls and entrance. "Please, please, please," he repeats, trailing his fingers up Hajime's thighs, trying to make him relax and give in, spreading his asscheeks apart.

With a harsh chuckle, Hajime _finally_ lets himself lean back, give in, losing balance halfway and falling back into the couch, his ass now raised further in the air up over the backrest than his head. "I can't believe you're begging to eat my ass," he says, trying to make the comment sound lighthearted and amused but his voice is already wavering. Tooru tightens his grip around Hajime’s thighs for stability, his hands sliding over the lace hem of the stockings, before he leans in, sliding his tongue over Hajime’s entrance, wetting it with saliva.

Hajime showered not long before he came home, Tooru can tell, his skin still smelling like the same old soap he's been using for a decade now, so wonderfully _Hajime,_ and Tooru can't believe there was a time where he thought he was jealous of Hajime smelling so amazing with just a mix of convenience store soap and himself instead of just being appreciative of it. Now all he feels is pride, pride that he's the one who's lucky enough to come home and sleep next to him in a bed that smells just like him, or, like today, come home to him in _lingerie,_ for Tooru's eyes only, and that he has the privilege to touch him and go down on him like this.

Tooru presses his tongue against the entrance again and the muscles in Hajime's thighs tightens, a gasp escaping when Tooru does press his tongue inside, pushing him open slowly.

"Fuck, Oikawa, I was supposed to—“ Hajime tries, reaching up to grab his hair, but at this angle Tooru is just out of reach, able to do whatever he wants to Hajime, and he does, pressing his tongue inside further before pulling out, sliding the tip of it around the rim teasingly before pressing it inside again. Tooru tightens his grip around Hajime’s thighs when he pushes upwards, back arching, and he pulls back slightly to press his lips against the entrance, sucking at it before sliding his lips up to the side, nibbling at Hajime’s inner thighs with his teeth, his hand sliding up over the lace hem of the stocking on one leg, pulling it out slightly from Hajime’s thigh, only to let it go, hearing the smack as the elastic band pulls it right back onto his skin. This time, when Hajime reaches up, he does manage to grab at Tooru’s hair at the top of his head, raking his fingers through it before grabbing tight, pulling at the roots when Tooru moves back and pushes his tongue inside again, stretching him open slowly.

Tooru pulls back later, standing up again so he can look down at Hajime, his eyes sliding down the black lace covering his body before they fix on Hajime’s face, flushed and open, the redness probably having more to do with his head being lower than the rest of his body, but Tooru takes it in anyway, reaching his hands down Hajime’s body to his stomach, sliding them over the garter belt to grab his waist, his hands careful, as if touching the underwear a bit too roughly would make it break — he isn’t actually sure, it looks delicate, even more so when compared to Hajime’s strong and sturdy body, the mix of the two a beautiful contrast in Tooru’s eyes. Hajime reaches over to the sofa table, and Tooru realises the lube is already there — he prepared before Tooru had even come home — and he barely misses it, unable to see from where he’s lying on his back, lower body raised in the air over the backrest, so he reaches down on the floor, scrambling after it blindly until he pulls his hand up victoriously, lube in hand.

“Enough,” Hajime says, pouring the lube out into his hand before closing the bottle with a ‘click’ again, handing it to Tooru. “Come join me on the couch,” he says, pressing his legs together and forcing Tooru away from his position between them, rolling over so he’s lying in the sofa when Tooru walks around it to join him, opening his pants with one hand, staring at the bottle of lube in his other hand.

“What are you—“ he begins to ask when Hajime sits up normally, spreading his legs, eyes widening when Hajime pushes his own fingers inside, stretching it further.

“Prepping, you’re too slow,” Hajime says, cutting right to the point, nodding at the lube in Tooru’s other hand when Tooru finally pushes down his pants, his fingers sliding over the elastic band of his boxers, still unsure if he should take them off completely. ”Get ready,” Hajime orders, patting the spot next to him on the couch with the hand he isn’t using to finger himself, biting his lip when he hits a certain spot inside him. Tooru growls, joining him on the sofa instantly, frustrated with having to see his boyfriend touch himself instead of being allowed to help. He knows he’s usually slower, but that’s _intentional,_ he likes doing it slowly, watching Hajime unravel in front of him under his touch. He pushes down his boxers anyway, freeing his already _very_ hard erection, pouring the lube out over his fingers before he slicks it over his length, turning to look at Hajime again, the way the suspenders on the garter belt loosen in his sitting position, the stockings crawling slightly down his thighs, the bra clutching his chest daintily.

Hajime is impatient, pulling out his fingers quickly when he realises that Tooru is done, pushing him back against the backrest of the sofa before he stands up, swinging one leg over Tooru’s lap, straddling him.

“This shit is not meant to move around in,” he says, pulling the backside of one of the stockings up slightly, spreading his legs further as he pushes his knees onto the sofa, grinding down against Tooru’s cock. Tooru throws his head back, reaching up to hold Hajime’s waist again, keeping his shoulders still when Hajime grabs them for balance, “Are you ready?” Hajime asks, reaching down with one hand to position himself above Tooru’s cock, leaning more weight onto Tooru’s shoulder with the other hand, looking down at him with a small smile. Tooru nods, an embarrassingly loud moan escaping his lips as Hajime presses down onto the tip, his rim stretching around it as he sinks down slowly, taking Tooru in. Hajime takes his time getting seated, his thigh muscles working underneath the lace of the stockings, and Tooru can only stare at him, forcing himself to breathe as Hajime sinks down onto his cock, slick and tight heat taking him in until the underside of Hajime’s thighs touch Tooru’s hips and he’s fully seated.

They both let out a sigh in reunion, Hajime leaning down to kiss his lips as Tooru forces his hips from jerking up into him before he’s ready.

Hajime pushes himself up slightly, almost pulling off Tooru before he suddenly sinks down again, both of them tensing at the sensation, Tooru jerking up into him unintentionally. Hajime puts both hands on his shoulders before rolling his hips experimentally, a small, lopsided smile on his lips before he nods at Tooru, rolling his hips again before both of them try moving, building up a slow rhythm.

Tooru slides his hands down to Hajime’s hips again before moving them back up to his waist, still too affected by the view of his boyfriend riding him in the lingerie he bought to be of much help, but Hajime does most of the work himself easily, once again making Tooru feel grateful for having a lover strong enough to keep going like this without getting exhausted, his thigh muscles still working under the skin tight stockings, his abs flexing in exertion.

Tooru slides his hands up Hajime’s back, his fingers touching every well-known dip and muscle on the bare skin until he reaches the bra, letting his fingertips slide under the straps for a few seconds before he tries to unlock the clasps.

Somehow, opening a bra is _way_ more complicated than you’d think, especially when you can’t actually see what your hands are doing, and after an embarrassingly long time of Tooru fighting with the clasps, Hajime leans back, raising his eyebrows at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’ve never had any practice,” Tooru says, pouting until Hajime tightens around him, his expression turning into a strained smile, the pleasure more powerful than his embarrassment.

“High school?” Hajime asks dumbly, as if he doesn’t believe Tooru, and Tooru pulls back with a frown, staring up at him, pushing his hips upwards to press deeper into Hajime.

“I was too busy being in love with my best friend to get that far with any girls,” Tooru admits, and Hajime stares down at him in confusion before pushing himself up again, sinking down onto him and pulling his hips down harder, setting a quicker rhythm.

“You had a girlfriend for two months,” Hajime says, still sounding slightly unsure, and Tooru is surprised that they’re having this conversation _now_ of all times, almost as surprised as he is that Hajime didn’t realise how absolutely in love with him Tooru was, even back then.

“Why do you think she broke up with me?” Tooru asks, leaning in against Hajime’s chest as his boyfriend arches his back again, head raised high as he looks down at Tooru from above, expression changing from uncertainty to amusement until Tooru thrusts up into him again, his smile faltering.

“You said— _oh,”_ Hajime says, but Tooru repeats the action, making him stop just as Hajime realises what Tooru had meant back then, laughing again, light and breezy. Tooru wants nothing more than to hear that laughter over and over for the rest of his life, but right now there’s a more urgent matter, and Hajime’s chest is warm against his face, pressed against the space between his pectorals,the lace lining teasing his chin, and he slides his hands up to try open the bra again, _finally_ managing to loosen the clasp, reaching up around Hajime’s shoulders as he pulls off the bra gently. He leans back just as Hajime moves his arms so Tooru can pull the shoulder straps off before discarding it on the sofa next to him.

Hajime’s face is just as flushed as his as he smiles down at Tooru, hands reaching up around his neck before he pulls him in, leaning down to kiss him again, losing the pace they set before as both of them crawl closer to a climax, Tooru reaching down around Hajime’s cock with his hand, pumping at it as he deepens the kiss, wanting nothing more than to be closer to Hajime, as close as possible, pushing his hips upwards again in an attempt at getting even deeper, and Hajime spreads his legs further, pressing down and pushing his hips forward, into Tooru’s hand.

Tooru continues to pump at Hajime’s cock, his own thrusts growing more irregular, but his hand still working as effectively as ever as he pushes Hajime towards the edge, panting and pressing his forehead against Tooru’s, his hands sliding down Tooru’s chest, shaking slightly.

“Fuck, Tooru, I’m—I’m close,” he says, and Tooru tightens his grip, continuing to move his hand up Hajime’s length, sliding his thumb over the tip and finally pushing Hajime over the edge. He pushes Tooru back onto the couch, arms reaching around his neck so he follows along with him as Hajime tightens around Tooru, pulsing around him, pushing Tooru further towards the edge. After jerking up into him, movements uneven, Tooru comes as well, trails of fire rippling through his entire body from his cock as he comes inside Hajime, only now realising that doing it without a condom in this position means extra cleanup but too far gone to care about that at this point, his entire body tingling with bliss.

Hajime pulls him tighter and Tooru buries his head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the fresh air of Hajime, that stupid soap, and the thin layer of sweat now covering both of their bodies, and he _loves it,_ loves Hajime, and even though his entire body is heavy and exhausted, still falling down from the high of the orgasm, this is probably his favourite part, their bodies pressed against each other, warm and sticky from sweat, the post-sex afterglow the only thing more beautiful on Hajime than the lacy underwear, half of which he’s still wearing, even though one of the clasps of the suspenders holding up the stockings has opened, letting the stocking roll down a bit on one side.

“You’re beautiful,” Tooru says as Hajime sits up straight again, pushing himself off of Tooru slowly, grimacing as he looks down between them.

“I hate feeling your dick getting soft inside me,” Hajime complains as he sits down again in Tooru’s lap, and Tooru can _see_ him get self-conscious about the underwear again, so he pulls him tight again, pressing his nose up against Hajime’s neck, and their chests together, longing for contact.

“I love it, I love being inside you,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss against Hajime’s neck, “and being close to you.” Hajime chuckles in reply, his chest rumbling slightly against Tooru’s, and he doesn’t say anything in reply, so Tooru leans down to lie on the sofa, pulling Hajime with him, still holding him close.”I love you,” he adds, and Hajime reaches up, combing his fingers through Tooru’s hair absentmindedly like he always does, and Tooru feels himself relax, very close to falling asleep despite the mess between their bodies that none of them are making any move to take care of.

“I love you too,” Hajime adds, his shoulders stiffening when Tooru’s hands slide down to his hips again, playing with the lining of the lace, and Tooru looks up, giving him a small, questioning smile. “I was kind of worried that you wanted me in girls underwear because you wanted—uh, because you wanted a girl,” Hajime says, voice quiet, obviously less fearful of that now, but still not comfortable with saying it out loud. “Since, you know, I’m not, and I can’t be that for you,” he adds. Tooru pulls him closer again, shaking his head fervently.

“I don’t want you to be, I love Iwa-chan and I want you to be you and nothing else,” he says, keeping his voice light and loving, well aware that Hajime isn’t a fan of sappy declarations like this, sliding his hands up over the garter belt again to his waist, attempting to pull him even closer despite the fact that their chests are already pressed against each other. “You’re already perfect as you are, Iwa-chan, even though I do like this on you,” he says, reaching down with one hand and pulling up at Hajime’s stocking playfully.

Hajime swats off his hand, and when he leans back his cheeks are dusted pink, his expression flustered, and Tooru can’t imagine being more in love than he is right now.

“That’s kind of gay,” Hajime says, his voice surprisingly neutral for a second before he breaks into laughter, just as Tooru tilts his head up, pressing their mouths together to silence him.

“Shut up,” Tooru says against his mouth before pressing his nose against Hajime’s again, looking into his eyes. “So, did this count as a special request or not? Because you didn’t—”

“Are you fucking serious?” Hajime cuts him off with an annoyed tone, turning his face away, but Tooru can see from the way he puffs his cheeks that he’s trying to hide a smile. Tooru pulls in closer again, burying his face in the crook of Hajime’s neck again, surrounded by the smell and warmth and sound of Hajime right there, right next to him, as close as can be.


End file.
